


You Are Our Last

by DoobleBugs



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Infection, Markoth is Seer's Son, Thistlewind is Agender, now with comfort!, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24851482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoobleBugs/pseuds/DoobleBugs
Summary: Seer wonders when her son will come home.
Relationships: Hornet & The Knight (Hollow Knight), Seer & Markoth (Hollow Knight), Seer & Thistlewind (Hollow Knight)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 179





	1. Little Soldier Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Leaves from the vine  
> Falling so slow  
> Like fragile tiny shells  
> Drifting in the foam  
> Little soldier boy  
> Come marching home  
> Brave soldier boy  
> Comes marching home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaves from the vine  
> Falling so slow  
> Like fragile tiny shells  
> Drifting in the foam  
> Little soldier boy  
> Come marching home  
> Brave soldier boy  
> Comes marching home

Two weeks. Thistlewind returned to the Moth Tribe within two weeks. They were thinner, yes, and a bit disheveled, but was nonetheless met with much merriment and cheer from their fellow moths. The Tribe was eager to hear their adventures of the wilds of Hallownest from the first-ever moth to wield a nail.

Except for one.

Seer brewed a kettle of tea as Thistlewind sat comfortably on her pillows. “I’m sure you had many adventures.” She said, mostly to break the ice.

“Indeed!” Thistlewind agreed, graciously taking the cup of milkweed tea. “Many of the tribe have heard them already, but I’m sure I have some I haven’t told you-”

“That is well and good, Thistlewind, and I’m glad you’re home safe.” Seer loudly interrupted, sitting next to them with her own cup. “However, that is not why I asked you to join me.”

“Oh, what could-”

“Have you heard any word from my son?”

Thistlewind visibly deflated, sipping from their tea to avoid answering. “We...we split up in what I later learned was called ‘Kingdom’s Edge’. I wanted to delve further into Hallownest but Markoth...didn’t.”

Seer’s antennae drooped as she stared into her cup. “What...what  _ did _ he want to do?”

“He wouldn’t say. He just refused to travel further.” Thistlewind replied. “It was fairly early on in our travels, I’m honestly surprised he didn’t get here first.”

“He didn’t. I’m beginning to grow worried.” Seer said softly. “My little Mar-Mar has always been the oddest little grub, always restless. But I never thought he’d actually leave...especially with weapons…”

“And a shield, don’t forget his shield.”

Seer frowned. “True, he has a method of protection. I suppose I’m just being a silly old moth. My little Mar-Mar isn’t so little anymore. He’s trained in both nail and shield, he should be able to protect himself.”

“True, he was an excellent fighter.” Thistlewind perked up as they continued to assure her. “He would often best me in sparring.” They leaned forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. “He’s a capable moth, I’m sure he can handle himself.”

Sighing, Seer nodded. “Thank you, Thistlewind.”

* * *

Four months. Four months and Markoth had not yet returned. Seer wasn’t a fool, she heard the whispers from the tribe. She knew what they thought. 

She refused to accept that her son was dead.

After she had tended to the graves, Seer would go for walks along the edge of the Resting Grounds and the village. When asked, she would reply, “Oh, I just like the exercise.”

But the others knew. They all knew.

And Seer did too.

* * *

A year passed. Markoth was still missing. The rest of the tribe had moved on. They had moved on from that, moved on from the silly old moth who tended the graves.

One of the elders approached Seer gently. “Seer...you cling to the past.”

“Yes, it’s comforting.” She replied, a touch curtly. “I see no good in rushing into the future. The others are quick to abandon our ways, our lives, our  _ God-” _

“That is not what I meant, and you know that.”

Seer turned away. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”

“Seer. He’s not coming home.” 

She felt her world spinning. “No.” Seer hissed, despite the vertigo she was currently experiencing, “No, you don’t know Markoth like I do.”

“Calm down, Seer-” But there was no calming Seer down. Her fur stood on end as she stepped closer, jabbing a finger into the Elder’s chest.

“My Markoth wouldn’t just  _ disappear.  _ Not my son.”

The Elder skittered away, recognizing a losing battle. Seer huffed, smoothing down her fur and turning back to her graves.

She would wait for her son. No matter how long it took.

* * *

More time passed. Seer lost count of specifics.

She had heard whispers from the others, mothers telling their grubs about the Moth who left, only to never return. Seer’s son had turned into a boogeyman, a fairytale, a warning. 

Don’t go past the village. Don’t be too hasty. Don’t be mean. Don’t be prideful. Don’t play with weapons. Listen to the Elders. 

Seer knew her son hadn’t been the most popular moth in the tribe, and her son certainly had those negative qualities about him. But they failed to mention his better qualities; he was kind, and honest, and rather soft-spoken at times.

Thistlewind didn’t have any ghost stories about them, but then again, they were still walking amongst the other moths in the village, telling stories from their adventures.

She tried not to be bitter. She tried not to think about how unfair it was that Thistlewind was home, and her son was still lost. It wasn’t Thistlewind’s fault.

Occasionally, Thistlewind would leave for several weeks to explore the edges of the world. They returned every time with fantastical stories of lush green valleys and strange beasts. And every time they returned, Seer would sit them down and ask for news of her son.

Thistlewind never had news on her son and slowly they started visiting less and less. Eventually, they stopped coming to visit her at all. Seer wasn’t sure if it was due to guilt or irritation, but she didn’t care.

* * *

Seer found herself thinking of her son less and less. Although, she had more important things to focus on. Namely the strange ailment spreading through the tribe.

It was an unusual sickness, giving them golden thoughts and dreams, their vision and words tainted with sickly sweetness. It affected the elderly first, and slowly they took their beds and withered away.

It took the grubs and the eggs, the babies inside never hatching. It took the weak, the young, the old. Then, it started taking everyone else. 

Everyone except Seer.

For unknown and ungodly reasons, Seer alone was spared from the malady. Although she saw this as not a blessing, but as a terrible misfortune. She alone was tasked with tending to the dying. There wasn’t anything to be done, there was no known cure or even a way to slow the disease - if it even  _ was  _ a disease.

Seer wondered if her son was suffering from the same sickness, wherever he was. Was he immune, as she was?

More and more moths fell to the plague, their veins choking with orange, their eyes resembling the sun. Seer dug more graves. She was digging so many, not only for the moths but for the bugs that the rest of the kingdom sent.

So many bugs fell to the disease. Warriors, guards, farmers, fathers, mothers,  _ sons.  _ There was even a strange ant dressed in a bright red suit of armor. The bugs delivering the cadaver said the red bug was a traitor to the king.

Seer didn’t care too much, but special instructions from the Pale Wyrm, demanding the traitor receive a special grave as a warning. A bit strange, and it wasn’t what Seer would have done, but who was she to question the Pale Wyrm?

More and more moths fell to the plague, their numbers dwindling. 

Until eventually, only two moths remained of the once flourishing tribe. 

Seer and Thistlewind.

* * *

Thistlewind fought as hard as they could against the infection, trying every remedy they could think of and even visiting the capital city. They had refused to give in, refused to let the sickness take them quietly.

But quietly it did. 

Their fighting grew weak, unable to even pick up their nail. And soon, they were unable to even leave their bed.

Seer came to see them in their final days, tending to them as a  ~~_ mother _ ~~ caretaker should.

“Seer…” Thistlewind croaked, their eyes a brilliant gold. Could they still see? “Seer...I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Thistlewind.” She assured them, wiping their forehead with a cloth.

“I should have stayed. I should have talked some sense into him...into Markoth.” They continued, their voice hoarse and quiet. “I should have...could have...he would be here if I tried  _ harder-” _

Seer shook her head, using a free hand to grasp their own. “No, Thistlewind. No one is to blame.”

Thistlewind sighed. “I’m fading, Seer. I can feel it. I...wanted to travel more.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Seer snapped, taking their other hand. “You will-”

“No, I suspect I won’t.” They whispered. “I never stopped looking for him, you know...I never stopped.”

She shushed him. “It’s not your fault, Thistlewind. I’m sure he’ll return one day.”

They reached into their cloak. “I made you something, before the infection,” Thistlewind said, pulling out a metallic golden charm. “I was...unsure when to give it to you. But I feel that there is no better time than the present.”

Thistlewind handed her the charm, and once it was in her grasp, his hand went limp. The golden charm was no bigger than her hand, its front carved into the likeness of a shield.  _ His  _ shield. Seer was speechless.

“Protect yourself...Seer…” Thistlewind said, his eyes closing and his grip going slack. “You...are our last…It’s so bright, Seer...it’s so...bright.”

And they were gone.

* * *

Seer had so many graves to dig. Thistlewind was buried with their nail in the Spirit’s Glade, the last body to be buried in there. Afterward, she sealed the glade. The spirits would be at peace there, all of them falling to the infection before their death.

One grave remained.

But this grave didn’t have a body to bury.

This statue would go under her tent, in a small cave. There, she painstakingly carved the surrounding rock into what she wanted. She was growing older, making the graves wasn’t as easy as it once was.

Soon the rock face was the spitting image of her son’s shield. And inside the notch in the middle of the rock went the charm Thistlewind had made her.

Seer stood in front of the grave. The grave without a body. The grave for her son.

She rested a hand on the smoothed rock. “Protect yourself, my son...for you are our last…”


	2. When She Loved Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lonely and forgotten  
> Never thought she'd look my way  
> And she smiled at me and held me  
> Just like she used to do  
> Like she loved me  
> When she loved me

Ghost eagerly accepted the cup of tea Seer handed them. They started to slurp it down before it even had a chance to cool, but the tea was so good it was  _ worth  _ a burnt tongue.

Hornet tried not to roll her eyes. “Thank you for the tea as always, Seer.” She allowed her tea to cool before sipping it. “It’s wonderful.”

“Moth family secret~” Seer chuckled, pouring herself a cup. “You won’t find any brew like it. Milkweed is tricky to brew juuuuust right.”

“Seer, ma’am, I apologize.” Hornet set down her cup. “However, I have a bit of an ulterior motive in visiting.”

“Oho, are you after my cookies, young lady?”

“...maybe. No. Not right now.” She frowned, thinking of how to phrase her question. “You see, little Ghost is quite the explorer, and they’ve discovered some...interesting finds. Finds pertaining to your profession.”

Seer stiffened. “I see. No need to be coy, young lady, there’s no need to dance around the issue of corpses around me. I’ve buried the dead since I was a hatchling. I’m going to guess you want me to help you bury them in the Resting Grounds?”

Slightly taken aback, Hornet replied, “Well, yes. I wrongfully assumed I had to be gentle with the subject.”

“Oh please! I’ve been burying the dead for longer than you’ve been alive!” Seer exclaimed.

“I apologize, Seer.” Hornet bowed her head. “Rest assured, you will be given plenty of assistance; with moving the dead, burying them, their headstones-”

“Young lady! I am aware of my age, but I am not decrepit!” Seer stood, storming to the back of her tent to rummage around. “I’ve sculpted and painted every single headstone in the Resting Grounds, and I’m not about to stop!”

Returning with armfuls of what looked like junk, Seer set them down. “I have my paints...paintings...my sculpting tools...how many bodies are there again?”

“Five.” Hornet replied, hesitantly sorting through the objects before her. “I didn’t know you painted.”

“I used to.” Seer said, her tone suddenly quiet. “I painted from real life, but I lost my painting muse.”

Ghost set down their empty cup, finally interested in the conversation. There were  _ things  _ to look at! They immediately began looking at the paintings, only seeing such objects in the City of Tears. They were mostly blues and greys, Seer painting mostly tombstones and the surrounding areas.

“I’ve told you not to rummage around in other people’s things!” Hornet scolded, trying to shoo Ghost away.

“Oh no, it’s fine! It’s nice to have someone like them.” The old moth assured them, “Feel free to look. I can’t promise anything exciting, however.”

Ghost agreed, these were kinda boring. The same grey and blue headstones. Just as they were about to put them down to ask for more tea, a flash of red caught their eye. Carefully - to not ruin them - Ghost moved the paintings to see.

The painting was different from the others. Smaller, around the size of a Wanderer's Journal. And the subject was different too, a young moth with red wings and a tan ruff of fur. They were holding a golden shield that was slightly taller than the young moth.

They seemed familiar, somehow.

"Seer?" Hornet asked, craning her neck to look over Ghost's head. "Who is that?"

Seer looked at the painting for a good, long while. Her eyes glossy, face expressionless.

"Seer?"

"That was my son." Seer finally said, her tone wistful and bittersweet.

Hornet knew that tone of voice all too well. "Oh, Seer...I'm sorry."

“No...no. You have nothing to apologize for. No one is to blame.” Seer assured the two younglings. “He was not taken by the infection, as so many others were.”

Hornet thought better than to question further. 

Seer stepped closer to look at the painting. “In truth, I am glad the painting has been rediscovered.” Sitting in between the two, Seer brushed her claws on the old painting. “My son never did like sitting still long enough for me to paint him. He was always a bit restless. I see part of him with you, Hornet.” she chuckled.

Ghost couldn’t shake the feeling that they had seen this moth somewhere. In the Spirit Glade? No, that was Thistlewind. Where…

“I thought the Moth Tribe didn’t wield weapons?” Hornet asked, pointing at the shield that Seer’s son was carrying. 

“Two moths did pick up weapons to protect themselves as they traveled Hallownest. One was named Thistlewind, who chose a long, slender nail, and my son Markoth, who chose a broader nail and shield.”

**_Ghost knew that name._ **

Without consulting Seer or their sister, Ghost tucked the painting away into their cloak, stood up, and turned to leave.

“Ghost? Where are you going with that painting? It’s not yours?” Hornet called out after them, sounding confused. She stood, ready to give chase. “Ghost, I’m giving you to the count of three-”

Hornet watched as Ghost hopped out of sight. “ _ Shit.  _ Excuse me for my language, Seer.”

“Where are they going with my painting?” Seer asked, sounding genuinely distressed. “What could they want with it? What are they going to do?”

“I am just as clueless. But rest assured, I  _ will _ get that painting back.” Hornet said. She rushed after her sibling, seeing their cloak vanish down a manhole. 

“GHOST, YOU BETTER RETURN WHAT YOU TOOK, OR YOU’RE  _ DEAD!”  _

Ghost started to run, dodging their sister’s silk and needle. The masks adorning the walls of the caves blurred, and Ghost focused purely on the path ahead. They just needed to get to Kingdom’s Edge before her!

The elevator loomed before them, taunting them with how close it was. But Hornet was right on their heels, feeling her silk swipe at the air just behind them. They kept running, almost tripping once or twice on an odd-shaped rock, catching glimpses of Hornet’s cloak every time they did so.

Finally, Ghost dashed into the elevator, closing it shut behind them.

Hornet glared at them as the elevator began its shaky descent. _ “You’re dead when I catch you. _ ” She hissed as the elevator ducked out of sight.

Ghost sighed and slumped into a sitting position. They wished they could explain what their plan was, but oh well.

The elevator  _ shook _ . The chains holding it aloft rattled ominously, and Ghost realized that  _ Hornet was on the elevator _ . 

Ghost shade dashed through the cage, plummeting towards the floor below. "ARE YOU INSANE?!" Hornet shouted after them, sliding down the walls to continue the chase.

_ Get to the Shade Gate. Get to the Shade Gate! _

Once Ghost crash-landed on the stone floor below, they made a mad dash into Kingdom's Edge. Dust and tiny pebbles were kicked up as they ran, racing past Hoppers and the  _ splats _ of Aspid-fire. 

They spared a glance behind them. No Hornet. Ghost allowed themselves to slow in order to make more precise jumps on the thinner platforms. They jumped, saw a flash of red, and felt the sting of Hornet’s needle crashing into their side.

Ghost fell, managing to grab a nearby ledge and pull themselves up. “You may have explored Hallownest, little Ghost.” Hornet hissed as she reeled back her needle. “But you haven’t found  _ every  _ shortcut.”

The two stared at each other, just for a moment. Then Ghost broke into a mad sprint, kicking up ash as they did so.  _ So close, so close! _

They weaved in and out of caves, barely paying any attention to the Hoppers and Aspids inside. Dash, run, jump, dodge, Ghost kept going as fast as they could.

There it was, the Shade Gate. Last push, last dash - Ghost slammed through the gate, skidding face-first on the floor.

Hornet couldn't follow them, as she couldn't dash through the Shade Gates like they could. They were safe...from Hornet at least.

“I was under the impression that I could spend the rest of my afterlife in peace...evidently not.” A voice hissed from behind.

Ghost turned to face the ghost of Markoth. Upon seeing them, Markoth sneered. “What is your business here, at the edge of the world,  _ Dark One?” _

They didn’t answer. Markoth didn’t let them, as he continued talking. Ghost usually let him talk until he was done. They figured he must be very, very lonely. “Are you here to  _ torment  _ me? Show me more of your inane scribbles? Force me to play your silly, childish games? Give me more flowers?”

Markoth gestured to the pile of Delicate Flowers placed around his corpse. “I cannot drink their nectar, not anymore. Not that I’ve  _ tried…. _ alright I have tried. Once. Or twice.  _ You’re distracting me.  _ What do you want, Dark One?”

Finally, Ghost reached into their cloak, showing the painting to the spirit. Initially, Markoth scowled, not bothering to give the painting even a second glance. “So you  _ are  _ here to show me your childish scribblings. For a being made of darkness, you act rather childish.”

Ghost shook their head, stepping closer with the painting. “I’ve seen enough of your scribbles, dark one.” Markoth said, sighing as he gestured to one of the cave walls. Gentle candlelight lit the scrolls plastered on the wall, all containing the drawings of Ghost. “You’ve really made my cave a shrine of junk, haven’t you?

_ Just look at the painting. _

“Really, I was fine with my cave before you came. All the ‘gifts’ make it harder to meditate.”

_ Look at the stupid painting. _

“Half of the time I lose the flowers in the snow. Or is it ash? I never found out which it was. Do you know?”

_ Painting. Look.  _

“Stop waving that tablet in my face. I highly doubt there’s space on the wall for yet  _ another _ of your-” Markoth stopped. He squinted, stepping closer to look at the painting. Hesitantly, he reached out, his claws nearly scraping the edges of the tablet.

“That’s...that’s  _ me.” _

Markoth’s confusion and sorrow led to  _ anger.  _ “How. Did. You get this?!” He snarled, fur standing on end and cloak billowing. “HOW did you get a painting of ME AS A  _ CHILD?!” _

Ghost immediately backpedaled, dropping the painting and stepping away from the  _ very angry Moth spirit. _ “HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW?! Have you been  _ stalking me?!  _ WHERE DID YOU GET THIS PAINTING?! My mother!?-”

As quickly as his temper flared, it cooled. Markoth visibly deflated, looking like a half-drowned Mosscreep. “My...m-my... _ mother…”  _ He looked down at the painting, lowering himself to his knees. “I...don’t remember my mother…”

Cautiously aware of Markoth’s awful temper, Ghost stepped forward. They didn’t want to make him  _ sad,  _ but..what did they want?

“Where...did you find this?” Markoth asked again, his voice uncharacteristically sullen. “And why? I am at my lowest... _ do you really want to bring me lower?” _

Ghost shook their head. No, no that’s not what they wanted at all!

Markoth’s form flickered and hung his head.  _ “What graves did you go through to find this painting…?” _

_ No! No graves!  _ Ghost shook their head again. With their paws, they formed a sort of tent. Markoth stared at them curiously. “...A tent...you found it in a tent…” 

He paused, recognition creeping into his voice. “I remember a tent...it was large...and purple. It was nestled away in the back corner...and lanterns hung from the ceilings...and pillows all over the floor…”

Yes! Yes, that was Seer’s tent! She  _ was  _ his mother!

“My memory is faded, Dark One.” Markoth stood slowly, picking up the painting as he did so. “I don’t remember much of my life. My childhood, less so. I have one question for you. Do not sugarcoat...is my mother still alive?”

Ghost nodded.

“S-She’s...alive?” He asked, starting to shake. “How long have I been here...how long has she waited for me to come home? I-I...I came to the edge of the world to seek solitude, I thought I wouldn’t be missed. Does...does she miss me? Did she speak of me?”

Ghost nodded.

“S-She... _ she misses m-me? _ ” Markoth whimpered, turning back to the painting. “I left my tribe convinced that no one would miss me. I was unhappy. I thought no one would even notice. I thought I would be happier alone. I was wrong on both accounts, Dark One. This isolation is maddening, a curse.”

He turned to Ghost, who was now sitting on the floor while he talked. “I was a fool, believing the world didn’t care for me. I  _ did _ have someone care for me...and I abandoned her.” Markoth composed himself as best he could. “Dark One. Does my mother know of...my passing?”

Ghost shook their head.

“Ah. She deserves to know. I’m unsure how long she has been waiting for me...she doesn’t deserve to wait for me any longer. I am finally going to return home…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO A LOT OF PEOPLE WANTED ME TO WRITE MORE....HERE U GO  
> Markoth turned into a bit of a chatterbox...but I don't blame him. He seems lonely


	3. Mother and Son

“Of course, there is a problem with our plan.” Markoth turned to the Shade Gate. “I may be a spirit, able to pass through solid rock, but I cannot travel far from my...remains. If I could even remember the path home, I doubt I could travel that far. I am tethered to my corpse.”

_ Ah.  _ That was true, none of the other Warrior Dreams seemed capable of going far from their corpses and graves either. They would need to move his remains...but Ghost doubted it could make it past the Shade Gate.

So it was decided, they would need to break the Shade Gate. Shouldn’t be too hard! After all, how difficult could it be as the  _ Lord of all Shade and Void? _ So Ghost plopped themselves down in front of the Shade Gate and focused.

The void inside the gate shivered. Ghost focused more. The void began to tremble. But no matter how hard Ghost focused, the void stayed firmly in the gate. Well, that didn’t work. Time to try the next best option, violence!

The Shade Gate had these teeth-like stones near the top and bottom. Ghost took out their nail and began to furiously swipe and stab at the stones. “If you’re trying to break that, be my guest.” Markoth scoffed. “I’ve tried and failed to make a single dent in that blasted...whatever it is.”

_ Yeesh, he was more cynical than Zote. _

Still, Ghost kept at it, the Shade Gate’s void flickering. Markoth made a quiet noise of surprise. “I’m unsure of what you’re doing, Dark One, but keep going. Whatever you’re doing is working.”

With one final swing, the rocks containing the Shade Gate shattered. The Void inside writhed and squirmed before sinking in between the stones and vanishing.

Ghost made a small ‘ta-da!’ gesture.

Then a needle shot forward, crashing into the side of their mask.  _ Ah, they forgot about Hornet.  _

“There you are, little Ghost.” Hornet hissed, stepping into the cave. “Thought you could hide from me? Destroying the only thing keeping me out was a very poor decision on your part.”

She took a step closer. But something caught her eye, and she looked up. She stared at the lifeless body of Markoth. “Oh... _ Stars Above…” _ Hornet glanced at Ghost. “Did you know this was here?” As she took another look at the body, the pieces clicked.  _ “Oh Gods, is...is that Seer’s son?!” _

“Friend of yours, I assume?” Markoth asked, eyes locked on Hornet - a new and potential threat.

Hornet jumped. “Who said that?! Little Ghost, did  _ you  _ say that?!”

Markoth tilted his head. “I’ve learned that those who have had brushes with death can see or hear me better than those who haven’t. I’m assuming your ‘friend’ has dealt with death, correct?”

“Who is saying that?! I can hear someone whispering- reveal yourself!” Hornet hissed, retrieving her needle and brandishing it. “My needle is sharp, I will not hesitate!”

“Ooh, I like this one.” He muttered. “At least she  _ talks.” _

Ghost reached into their cloak, pulling out the Dreamnail, their gateway between the realm of the dreaming and the dead. They tugged on Hornet, holding out the nail for her to take.

“What is that? You used it against the fight with Hollow…” Ghost continued to offer it to her, and she took it with hesitance. “It’s not my taste in weapon...and a bit small...and it’s lacking a blade - why did you give this to me?”

As soon as she took the blade, Markoth ‘vanished’ from sight. But Ghost knew he was still around.

Hornet’s head shot up, staring at where Markoth once was. Without even thinking, she threw her needle at thin air. Predictably, her needle stuck into the wall. “Speak, spirit!” Hornet commanded.

Silence. The wind hissed as it circled in the cave.

“...Your name is Markoth?” She said slowly. More silence was her reply. “My name is Hornet, and this is my sibling, Ghost. Yes, they’re my sibling. I know, I know, our resemblance isn’t immediately apparent- Are you going to let me talk, or are you going to dominate the conversation?!”

She turned to Ghost. “Can you see him right now? And was he always this much of a chatterbox - yes, I am referring to you, sir! You haven’t  _ stopped  _ talking!”

There was another long, long silence. The wind died. Hornet’s anger shifted into something more subdued. “Yes, we have met your mother. Yes, she’s alive...she misses you greatly.”

Hornet nodded. “I understand. You want to see her.” She sighed, turning away. “It will be...difficult. To explain it to her, you realize this, right? I’m going to go to a very old bug and be the one to tell her that her only son is  _ dead.” _

A different silence. Ghost couldn’t see Markoth, but they knew he was speechless. Finally, Hornet glanced behind her. “Take your shield?”

Well, it would be easier than lugging a body around.

Hornet paused to think. "...alright. Alright, fine, yes, we'll do it." 

Before she could say anything else, Hornet shoved the Dreamnail into Ghost’s little hands. “Here, I don’t want to talk with that floating pile of fur any more. But I will keep my promise. Help me grab his shield. I’ll do the talking.” She paused. “...I don’t know why I had to explain  _ I’ll _ be the one talking. Regardless, let’s go.”

* * *

Hornet didn’t talk on the way there. Ghost could tell she was deep, deep in thought. Both siblings had dealt with death before, but they hadn’t dealt with having to gently  _ tell  _ someone.

“Alright. Stick close to me, understand?” Hornet instructed, sounding somber. “I have seen the bodies of many, but I have never had to tell something so personal to a loved one. Usually, I am the recipient of such discussions, not the messenger.”

Ghost nodded.

“Let me enter first, I want to break it to her gently before she sees the shield.”

Ghost nodded.

When they reached the outside of Seer’s tent, she rushed out to see them. Ghost immediately stood in front of the shield to fruitlessly attempt to hide it. Hornet assisted, standing in front of her smaller sibling.

"Ooh, when the little one ran off with my painting, ooh." Seer croaked, holding the small painting close to her chest. "It's one of the few things I have left of him...the thought of losing it…"

Hornet glanced away, her nerves of steel faltering. "Erm, Seer...I - we, no,  _ I  _ need to talk to you. About...your son."

Seer stared at the spider princess with large eyes, still damp from crying, clutching the painting to her chest.

"I…" Hornet continued to stammer. "Your son...he's dead." So much for breaking it to her gently. “I’m so sorry.”

Ghost stepped aside, letting Seer get a good look at Markoth’s shield. She shuffled closer, worn hands gently inspecting the shield. Despite her inspection, Seer’s gaze was distant, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“Part of me always knew.” Seer finally sighed, resting her head against the shield. "But another part of me, a stronger part of me, refused to believe it."

"I'm so sorry you had to learn this way." Hornet repeated. "I wish I was better at these sort of things-"

Seer waved her hand dismissing the notion. "No one is to blame."

"Seer, I-"

"Silence, Hornet." Seer said firmly. "Enough. I'll have none of that."

Hornet bowed, making herself look small. 

Seer huffed. "Right. Take me to my son."

* * *

It was strange, escorting Seer down the Kingdom's Edge. Both Ghost and Hornet expected her to be a bit more...fragile. And while she was a bit slow, Seer barely flinched at the Aspids and Hoppers. She didn’t even seem to notice the falling bodies of the Fools above.

“Seer, do you-”

“No, Hornet. I don’t need assistance.” Seer replied, a little curtly. “I am perfectly capable of traversing myself, you don’t need to ask every time I have to step over a pebble.”

Hornet tried to stop Seer before she entered Markoth’s cave. “Listen, Seer, I just want to apologize again-”

The old moth sighed, taking one of Hornet’s hands into her own. “My dear, you don’t need to apologize anymore. Please, I need to do this. I’ve been grieving for so long, I need this to begin healing.”

Before Hornet could reply, Seer cut her off. “I believe that you’re apologizing not just for my sake, Hornet. You’ve lost someone close to you, I can see it in your eyes. You’re apologizing to me in order to ease your own grief.”

Hornet was silent. Seer stepped around her and Ghost and over the broken Shade Gate, entering the cave and leaving the two siblings scrambling to keep up.

Seer stopped and stared at her son’s corpse.

She had always had a picture of her son in her mind’s eye; a tall, proud Moth warrior with gleaming armor. But time had not been kind to her memory, nor had it been kind to her son. Markoth’s fur was dull and matted, armor rusted and cracked. His once-bright colors had gone grey. He was slumped over, ash accumulating on his cloak.

But it was him. It was still him.

Before Ghost and Hornet could enter the cave, Seer put up a hand to wave them away. “I require a moment alone with my son.”

The two siblings obliged her wishes, Hornet grabbing Ghost by the horns and quickly dragging them away.

Seer continued to stare at her son. She’s had nightmares that mirrored this exact scene. She shuffled close and sat next to his corpse, tentatively reaching for a bit of his cloak. He was cold as ice.

“You didn’t travel far, all things considered.” Seer told him. “Thistlewind would be so pleased with themself to know that. Don’t worry, I won’t tell them, it’ll be our secret.”

Despite being in a cave, the wind sighed in her ears. How long has he been in this cave at the edge of the world? Did he succumb to the infection? The cold? Hunger? She didn’t want to know. 

“There was an infection, while you were away.” She continued, speaking as if they were merely meeting up for a polite chat over tea. “Would you believe me if I said some of the deceased were crawling out the graves? They didn’t even bother to thank me for tending to them, absolutely no manners.”

The wind picked up, sounding furious, but quickly died back down. “You were always searching for something. Something the Tribe and I could not provide you. I failed you, my son.” Seer hung turned to face her son. “Whatever you were looking for...I hope you found it.”

She stood, dusting ash off of her wings. “I couldn’t help you then. But I can help you now.” Seer held out a hand for him to take. “It’s time to go home.”

A cold presence enveloped her hand.  _ “Yes.” _ The wind whispered in a voice nearly forgotten but all too familiar.

_ “Yes.”  _ Markoth whispered.  _ “Let’s go home.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We done it boys.....


End file.
